


Like A Length Of Rope

by slacktension



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-05
Updated: 2012-07-05
Packaged: 2017-11-09 05:58:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slacktension/pseuds/slacktension
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of fics exploring Korra's relationships with every character, eventual Makorra.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Naga

Before Korra even had to lift the squeaky latch on Naga’s pen, the polar bear dog lifted her large head to her master’s arrival, black lips pulled back to emit an eager whine. Korra laughed as she slipped inside the pen while her best friend wiggled on the floor in excitement, waiting for Korra to step forward and rub her head.

“Hey, girl,” she whispered, curling her hand up. Naga jumped to her feet and buried her head into her master’s stomach, whining and panting as Korra’s upper body curled over her head. Both of her hands curved behind Naga’s floppy, warm ears and started scratching away. “That’s my good girl, you’re tired, huh?”

Naga continued to whine in response, continuously lifting her paws off the ground as if she were bouncing. Korra laughed, because it reminded her of Bolin, of Meelo and Ikki, the three people who nearly acted just like Naga every time she came home. That kind of full body excitement-but it was better with Naga, because it was the  _only_  way she could express her love and loyalty to her master. And it was constant, the way she always greeted Korra even if she had failed her airbending lessons, if she lost her patience and set something on fire, if she hurt her human friends when they were far too complicated to understand.

Korra lifted herself off of Naga’s head, kneeling down to wrap her arms around Naga’s muzzle and rest her chin between her small, black eyes. Blue stared back at the black until finally, Naga couldn’t take the lack of sound and movement anymore, and she opened her mouth and forcefully brought it up to disentangle Korra’s arms and run her large pink tongue across Korra’s cheek.

She laughed and rubbed the saliva away with her hand. “You’re funny, you know that?” Naga sat down and Korra pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“I think I’m messing up again, girl,” Korra said quietly, sitting down before her. Naga whined and laid down, resting her head in Korra’s crossed legs. Sighing, she started absentmindedly running her hands over Naga’s head and ears. “It’s just worse this time because it’s going so  _slow_. But also kind of fast? I don’t know.”

Naga sighed in response.

“Yeah. I’m really trying, too. It’s just that everything so  _difficult_  here, you know?” Korra paused and rubbed the soft velvet just above Naga’s nose. “Well, I know  _you_  know. You can’t run or burrow in the snow or hunt anymore. I told Bolin and Mako about how much you hate the weather here, and you know what they said? They said I should  _shave_  you.” Korra laughed brightly. “City slickers. I think only Asami could handle the South Pole. She never complains about anything.”

Korra suddenly sighed heavily, and pushed Naga’s head off of her legs. She stood and moved to the polar bear dog’s great front legs, settling herself down between them. Naga’s neck pressed down over Korra’s body, and she was able to rest her head against Naga’s leg. It felt a little bit like being nestled in the warm cocoon beds back home, her  _real_  home, where her parents lived.

“Why’s it so easy to talk to you, Naga?” Korra mused, pulling gently at the thick folds of skin at Naga’s neck. “I mean, you can’t talk back, but I always feel better afterwards. Maybe it’s because of some Avatar junk. You know, animal guides and stuff. I hope not, though.” Korra paused and started threading her fingers through Naga’s fur. “Because, if it was, I think then you’d be like everybody else. I only know Tenzin because of Avatar duties, and he gets disappointed with me. You’re never disappointed when I do something wrong. Sometimes, I think you’re my  _only_  friend.”

Naga whined pitifully, and Korra broke into a smile.

“I guess you’re right. That’s not fair to say. I mean, it’s not like  _we_  started out as best of friends,” Korra laughed brightly and Naga’s ears perked up. “The next time Tenzin or Mako or anybody tells me about patience, I’m going to tell them to train a polar bear dog.”

Naga’s tail thumped against the ground, and Korra knew she agreed. She reached down to scratch her behind the ears again.

“Yeah, girl, I know. Nothing worth having is ever easy,” Korra said, and she buried her face into Naga’s neck. “You taught me that. Avatar lesson number one.”

Naga barked once, loudly, and the sound vibrated up from her chest, through Korra’s body, and out her mouth. Korra laughed with ease for the first time all day, and she decided right then that she could afford to skip afternoon meditation.

“I’m taking a break,” Korra said, and she leaned back against Naga’s leg, shutting her eyes with a light sigh. “Let’s dream about snow.”


	2. Katara

The mail came during lunch. Korra always had mail.

She sat at the low table alone, as her airbending practice ran into the scheduled time for lunch. She pushed her food around the bowl, waiting for Tenzin to sift through every letter until he found all those addressed to her. Any addressed to  _The_ _Avatar_ _Korra_  were taken by Tenzin, though; those were usually from various politicians asking for endorsements or help with minor problems in the city. It was silently agreed that Tenzin would take those, as she didn’t need any more responsibilities.

One thick letter wrapped in a tan envelope skidded across the table to her. She dropped her chopsticks and tore it open without bothering to check who it was from. There were only two options anyway.

 _Dear_ _Korra_ , started Katara’s soft, practiced handwriting.

It was a sweet letter, as all of them before had been. It was long, spanning two pages front to back, full of good advice and loving words of praise.

… _I_ _always_ _said_ _you_ _were_ _strong_ _,_ _and_ _I_ _’_ _ve_ _never_ _doubted_ _you_ _._ _But_ _remember_ _that_ _it_ _is_ _healthy_ _to_ _break_ _down_ _._ _Your_ _friend_ _Asami_ _sounds_ _good_ _for_ _you_ _:_ _I_ _’_ _m_ _glad_ _you_ _both_ _talk_ _and_ _comfort_ _each_ _other_ _._ _That_ _is_ _a_ _friendship_ _that_ _will last_ _._ _However_ _,_ _sometimes_ _,_ _you_ _need_ _someone_ _there_ _who_ _can_ _be_ _strong_ for  _you_ _._ _I_ _was_ _that_ _way_ _for_ _Aang_ _and_ _for_ _you_ _as_ _a_ _little_ _girl_ _,_ _and_ _when_ _I_ _needed_ _it_ _,_ _Aang_ _was_ _strong_ _for_ _me_ _._ _I_ _hope_ _you_ _find_ _someone_ _like_ _that_ _,_ _and_ _maybe_ _they_ _are_ _already_ _with_ _you_.  _I_ _wish_ _I_ _could_ _be_ _there_ _for_ _you_ _now_ _, but that isn’t my role to fill anymore._

“Mail?”

Korra jumped, knocking over her bowl of rice and crumpling the edge of her letter between her tensed fingers. She jerked her head to find Mako kneeling next to her, Meelo hanging around his shoulders and tugging at his hair.

“Spirits, you scared me,” she sighed shakily, turning away to flatten out the letter.

“Oh, sorry,” he muttered. He shifted beside her, and she continued reading the letter as he sat down, pulling Meelo from his shoulders.

Meelo babbled and Mako tried to talk sense back to him, but it was easy to tune out and dissolve her thoughts into Katara’s letter again.

 _…_ _Everything_ _is_ _essentially_ _the_ _same_ _back_ _home_ _._ _Your_ _mother_ _and_ _father_ _send_ _their_ _love_ _,_ _and_ _apologize_ _for_ _no_ _letter_ _this_ _week_ _._ _In_ _the_ _middle_ _of_ _preparing_ _for_ _the_ _hunting_ _season_ _,_ _it_ _seems_ _your_ _father_ _accidentally_ _knocked_ _their_ _last_ _sheets_ _of_ _paper_ _into_ _a_ _fire_ _._ _Expect_ _a_ _longer_ _letter_ _from_ _them_ _next_ _week_ _,_ _and_ _he_ _promises_ _to_ _send_ _new_ _polar-_ _leopard_ _skins_ _and_ _tiger-_ _seal_ _jerky_ _with_ _it_ _._

She didn’t know what really did it, whether it was the way she could  _hear_  Katara’s voice with every word, or the loving tone, or the mentions of life as usual back home, but the tears started to well in her eyes.

Very few people saw her cry. There had been many close calls, and Korra knew when the tears would truly fall to when her eyes would just water. Knowing that she wasn’t really going to cry, Korra finished the letter and refolded it, smoothing it down against the table with a shaky sigh. She rubbed at her eyes to press any moisture away, only enough to seep out and coat her eyelashes. She blinked afterwards, drawing the sunny dining room into focus, her eyelashes cold against her warm, aching skin.

“Meelo, how about you go find Bolin, huh?” Mako’s voice drifted back to her at her side. She knew Meelo left when a swift breeze blew across her face, and Mako shifted. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head instantly, face pulling into a smile and her shaky hands fiddled with the bent corners of the letter. “No, I’m fine. Just a little homesick.”

“Oh,” he paused, because his idea of homesickness conjured up dead memories, which she knew and felt a bit ashamed of. She wanted him to leave and not have his misery and longing for his parents contrast against her own. Instead, he leaned his elbows on the table and she knew he wasn’t going anywhere. “Anything exciting happening back home?”

“Same as always,” she sighed heavily. “Snow leopard season is starting, which is a big deal. Katara didn’t say, but I think she’s going to try and make me another dress with the new furs. She always tries to.”

He lightly laughed, which she was surprised by. “You don’t let her?”

She had never spoken of home to him, not knowing how he’d react. She expected him to maybe turn melancholy, walk away and think about his own broken family; not laugh. He seemed to be approaching the topic lightly, and she found she was grateful for it.

“No,” she chuckled. “It’s especially pointless now, since Asami wants me to go dress shopping with her. For fun, modern stuff. But it’s nice of Katara to try.”

There was a pause, and she knew he had no response. She turned her head to look at him, only to find him already staring at her. She jerked her chin up towards the door.

“You can go, I’m fine,” she said, and she started scooping the spilled rice off of the table and back into the bowl. “I’ve got to write to Katara, anyway.”

He frowned incredulously. “Not with those hands.”

She looked down where he had been staring at her hands, palms cupped to hold the rice. They were covered in small scrapes, knuckles torn, layered in dirt and shaking. For being the element of freedom, the hand movements of airbending had to be controlled, which usually led Korra to tensing the tendons in her hands until they popped against her skin. It was the wrong way, and she was slowly letting go of it, but now with all of her other practices and training piled on, her hands were difficult to control.

He grabbed the bowl and placed it beneath her hands, where she let the rice fall. “I’ll just heal them and wait until they stop shaking.”

“I can write it for you,” he said.

She looked at him, and he was being completely serious. He shrugged under her gaze, and started helping her clean the table of the rice.

“You just tell me what you want to say and I’ll write it down,” he said quietly. “Even if my calligraphy isn’t the best.”

“It’s pretty personal,” she replied, pressing her index finger into individual grains, collecting them into a mush of starch before scraping it into the bowl. “The letters, I mean. You don’t have to, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine,” he said, taking the last of the spilled rice and returning it to the bowl. He set it off to the side. “Unless you’re uncomfortable.”

She thought about it. Out of all of her friends, out of everyone she knew, Mako was the one who saw the least of how her duties and responsibilities ate away at her. He had little understanding of what she had to do and who she was-which on one level, she liked. He saw her only as  _Korra_  and never as the Avatar, but she was starting to understand that she had to be both. And she wanted him to understand too.

“Alright, fine,” she conceded, and his mouth tugged into a small smile. “But if it gets too weird, I’ll kick you out.”

“Of course,” he laughed, and stood to leave. “I’ll go get the paper.”


	3. Tenzin

“Did he really look like that?”

She could practically feel Tenzin frown in confusion at her question.

“I have been told it is an accurate likeness,” he replied slowly, diplomatically. “Of course, I didn’t know him quite so young.”

Korra sighed impatiently. “Well,  _yeah_ , I knew that. But I mean…I don’t know, there’s something off about it.”

“Off?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Look, I know it’s weird, since I really didn’t know him but,” she paused and leaned forward over the ferry railing, elbow propped on the metal to rest her chin between her curled index finger and thumb. “Something about it irks me.”

“Irks?”

This time, his parroting carried a hint of amusement, but Korra missed it by being lost in her own thoughts. Stretched out before them was the statue of Avatar Aang, slowly moving across the horizon as the ferry took them home from a boring day of Council meetings. Something felt right about looking at the statue at that time of day, Korra decided: the sun was setting off to the west just before them, the last rays of golden sunlight casting the usually grey stone into a myriad of oranges and yellows. The way the light colored the billowing stone robes made sense, like a piece of a puzzle suddenly locked into place, but when her eyes fell on his face once more, this time shadowed, that feeling slipped away. It always seemed to happen when her eyes met his stone ones.

“It just doesn’t look like him,” she decided firmly, nodding. “I know I haven’t met him yet but I just  _know_  it’s not him.”

Tenzin laughed.

It took Korra a second to figure out why the sound she heard coming from him was so surprising, making her go rigid with shock until it gave away to something warm. He rarely laughed. She melted to relax against the railing, and decided that Tenzin’s laugh felt like eating a freshly picked mango warmed in the sun - sweet and orangy yellow, just like the way his children laughed. She looked up at him to find him smiling fondly at the statue.

“My father hated that statue,” he said quietly through his smile, and even though he used the word  _hate_ , there was nothing but affection in his tone.

“Really? Why?”

He snorted lightly. “He never wanted to be worshipped. He was far too humble for that. It was Firelord Zuko that finally convinced him by erecting his own statue down at Central City Station. Along with Toph Beifong’s.”

“At least Toph’s looks like her,” Korra said, and she immediately wondered how she knew that. She had never met the woman. “Something tells me Avatar Aang didn’t really look like that.”

“True. I recall more smiles,” he laughed again

Korra looked back at the statue and felt that same gap there, the one that told her something was missing, but each time she looked up at Tenzin to find him smiling, something clicked in the back of her mind. She had seen Tenzin smile before, but never truly laugh despite her previous efforts at jokes and pranks. This felt  _right_ , like it needed to stay and belonged, like she needed to cheer him up despite the fact that they were in the middle of a revolution and he was supposed to take care of her. She was going to keep trying.

“Well, we can replace it with one of me, I won’t mind.”

Tenzin looked down at her and his smile fell, and she was hit with guilt - she had  _definitely_  said the wrong thing. His stare wasn’t angry, just blank, which made it even worse. He glanced between the statue again and back to her, and she opened her mouth to apologize when he suddenly smiled again. It was even bigger the second time around, revealing the long crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes and the dimples partially masked by his beard. He shook his head and let out a light, breathy chuckle.

“We’ll make sure to get your likeness this time,” he replied.

Korra laughed mostly out of relief, but found that her own smile stayed as Tenzin’s never faded for the rest of the ride home.


	4. Pema

Korra stumbled over her boots as she tried to simultaneously walk and kick them off of her feet, tripping up over the flat carpet in the dining hall. Trailing behind her in a similar fashion were her three friends, all tired and sore from various sparring matches and learning new forms of fighting.

Pema already had heated leftovers plated on the low dining room table, where she sat at one end, nestled into patching up tattered clothing.

“I call shower first,” Asami mumbled, shuffling off her coat as she walked down the hall.

Korra moaned and leaned against Bolin as she wiggled her leg in the air, kicking off her last boot. Mako already sat himself down at the table, and didn’t even bother to look in his bowl to see just what he had chosen to eat. As long as he had chopsticks and food placed between them, he was fine for the time being.

“I take it you all had a good training session?” Pema asked brightly, not looking up from the green fabric in her hand.

Bolin didn’t bother to sit down to eat. He grabbed a bowl and chopsticks, jerking his thumb out towards the door. “Yeah, it was great. Hey, is it alright if I take this back to the Acolyte’s quarters? I bet Pabu’s hungry and - “

“It’s fine,” Pema replied, smiling. “As long as you bring it back in the morning, I don’t mind.”

“Thanks, Pema. Bro?”

Mako set his chopsticks back on the table and lifted a finger to Bolin, signaling for him to wait. He brought the bowl to his lips and tipped his head back, shoveling the last of the fried rice and stir fried vegetables into his mouth. He set the bowl back down with his cheeks stuffed but chewing, standing to leave before Pema suddenly gasped.

“Oh, Mako,” she frowned, and he looked back at her unable to respond. “The end of your scarf is all tattered. Would you like me to mend it?”

Instantly, he shook his head. He tried to convey that her gesture was much appreciated, but unnecessary, with a series of shoulder shrugs and brow furrows. Instead, he chewed his food and made weird movements, strange sounds coming from his throat as if he were trying to speak. When he finished, he just frowned at Pema as she frowned back.

Korra laughed from the other side of the table where she had sat down. “That’s a yes, Pema.”

He tossed her a glare as Pema lifted the scarf from his shoulders. Still chewing, Mako resigned to stand and leave with his brother.

“Goodnight, Pema, thanks for the snack!” Bolin called.

She and Korra waved, issuing their own farewells. Once the boys were gone the room was placed back into the calm silence it had been before their arrival, save for the soft shuffle of fabric and Korra’s chopsticks tapping against her bowl. Down the hall the shower rattled on, hissing quietly. It was a nice night, Korra decided, despite her aching muscles and the faint scratches she had received from an overzealous Bolin. It ended with everyone in their place, heading off to bed safe and warm, and Korra knew now to take that as a small victory.

“Is that Bolin’s?” Korra finally asked, gesturing to the green fabric in Pema’s hands.

Pema paused and lifted the cloth, showing that it was really the makings of a small, oval cushion. “Well, I noticed that Pabu doesn’t have a proper bed, so…”

“You’re making him one?” Korra finished with a smile.

She laughed. “Yes. Bolin was mentioning it when I saw red Fire Ferret fur in his hair during breakfast. Remember?”

Korra didn’t, even if she had been there. “Sure. Uh, do you have a lot of sewing left?”

“Just a bit,” she replied, glancing down to her side where Korra couldn’t see. “Asami needed her gloves mended, your robes, Mako’s scarf…I think I’m missing something.” She paused and tapped her finger to her lip, humming, until her face broke into a smile. “Bolin needs socks! But I’ll do that just before bed.”

Korra frowned and glanced out the window, where it was pitch black. If it could be done, Pema preferred to be in bed at the same time as the kids, which was usually sometime around seven. “Pema, it’s nine-thirty.”

“Really?” She seemed unimpressed with this news. “I didn’t even notice.”

Korra shook her head and pushed her food bowl off to the side. “Let me help you.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. You’ve had a long day as it is.”

“Give me Asami’s gloves, you aren’t supposed to touch leather anyway,” Korra bargained, stretching her open and expectant hand across the table.

Pema sighed and smiled, reaching to her side and appearing with the gloves, a needle, and thread. “Fine. Tenzin would have my head if he found out, I suppose.”

Korra quickly set to work, finding the undone seams on the fingers and loose threads, fitting the new, thicker thread through the tough skin. She bit down on her lip as she worked, trying to ignore the pain at the tips of her fingers. “Why’d you agree to fix these gloves if Acolyte’s are supposed to be all…vegetarian and stuff?”

Pema chuckled softly at her choice of words. “Well, I noticed they were torn, and I know how to sew. It seemed like the right thing to do.”

“But I can sew. You could’ve just asked me to do it in the first place.”

She shrugged. “You’ve been quite busy. It wouldn’t have been fair to ask.”

Korra sighed shortly in annoyance. Leather was about as difficult to pierce as the untreated skins from back home. How Pema even had the strength to stay awake and keep working was a mystery to her - just  _babysitting_  the three airbending children was enough to convince Korra to take a long, well deserved nap afterwards. Piling on three orphaned teenagers unaccustomed to having mothers, who were slowly slipping into the comfort of finding Pema to fill that role, did not help matters either.

“Pema, why do you do all of this stuff?” Korra asked slowly.

“What stuff, dear?”

She frowned and dug into the glove again, nicking her fingers on the other side in the process. She flinched and shook it off quickly to continue her work. “You know, stuff like this. Nobody asked you to fix their things, you just did it.” Korra paused and looked up at her. “Is it just because you’re a mom and it’s natural?”

Pema paused her work and returned Korra’s gaze, surprisingly serious. She couldn’t recall the last time she had seen her this way, no longer seeing her brown eyes wrinkled with a sweet smile. It wasn’t severe, just different.

“Korra, I’ve learned that just because someone is a mother, does not mean that they are required to love and care for their children,” Pema stated. “It might be their duty, but not everyone follows that duty. I do these things, even when they go against my own beliefs, because I respect those of the people I love. And I love you and your friends very much, and when you love someone, you give to them wholeheartedly. Understand?”

Korra nodded even as her understanding of Pema’s words formed in her mind. She never really considered the idea of parenthood as being optional; she had been given loving parents, and she had seen Tenzin and Pema’s parenting was the same. The idea that Pema was not bound to behave this way never crossed her mind, and suddenly, she was wracked with guilt for some reason unknown to her.

“I think I understand,” she said slowly. “I just never thought of it like that.”

“Well, I believe you have reason to relate,” Pema said, and Korra frowned instantly, slightly horrified. The older woman laughed brightly. “You have a duty to the world that you don’t necessarily have to fulfill. I’m sure there will be a time when you question that duty.”

Being the Avatar wasn’t  _optional_ , she wanted to argue, but she held her tongue to consider it. Her abilities and connection to the Spirit World were really the only thing that marked her as unique, while the people around her thrust that importance, that  _trust_ , onto her. The idea that she had the option to walk away and forget it, leave the world to tear itself apart, was foreign and frightening to Korra.

“I won’t do that,” she said quickly. “I won’t, that’s just - who  _would_  do that?”

Pema just smiled and returned to her sewing. “And that’s what makes you a good Avatar, Korra.”

“Really? Wait, I mean -  _thanks_.”

Pema laughed again, but it was cut this time as Mako hurriedly walked into the room. He stared down at the pair a little wide eyed and surprised, eyes nervously flicking between the two of them.

“Hi, sorry,” he said, walking over to Pema. “It’s just, my scarf doesn’t  _really_  need to be fixed, not right now, so could I -“

“Have it back? Of course!” Pema said, and she stood up.

Mako instantly moved to help her. “You don’t have to get up, I can just get it and go.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she said, grabbing the scarf before finally standing. Mako had a good foot of height on the woman, but that didn’t stop her from wrapping the scarf around his neck. “And honestly, you should really put this around your  _neck_ , not your shoulders. What good is a scarf in this weather if it’s around your collar?”

“But I’m a firebender.”

She shook her head. “Nope. No excuses.” Something caught her eye around the corner and down the hall, and she looked around Mako to see Asami shuffle out of the bathroom. “Asami! Asami, dear, Korra’s patching up your gloves if you don’t mind.”

“No, that’s fine!” whispered Asami’s voice from the hall.

“Alright, goodnight, sweetie!” Pema called back, before turning her attention to Mako once more. “And you, young man, tell your brother to use those socks I gave him yesterday. They might be Tenzin’s but they still fit and the last thing I want to hear is him talking about earthbending with  _blind_ _feet_  again, whatever that means.”

Mako smiled weakly, amused. “Sure thing, Pema. Thanks. Uh, is that it?”

“And goodnight, of course,” she said sweetly.

“Right. Goodnight, Pema, Korra,” he said, nodding his head to them both, and he was out the door once more.

Pema quickly turned to Korra once he left, hands on her hips. “Now, as nice as it is that you’d like to help me, I think it’s wise for you to turn in for the night as well.”

Korra knew this was the opening for an argument she couldn’t win. She resigned to let herself yawn, dropping the needle and thread on the table with Asami’s partially mended gloves.

“Fine. Goodnight, Pema.”


	5. Jinora

Pema was still clearing the table of plates and dishes from dinner, Mako trailing after her, while Korra was still stuck in her seat with Jinora by her side. The small girl had shoved the dirty plates away from them to cover half the table in books, each one propped open on their spines to specific pages tabbed with ripped pieces of paper.

“…and  _here_  it says that you have to go on a diet of onions and bananas - “

”- Gross,” Mako frowned, trying to place one last sauce dish on the stack of ten plates he had bundled in his arms.

Korra looked up at him with her tired eyes rimmed with dark, heavy bags, and glared. He delicately placed the sauce dish back down on the table in defeat, and quickly left the room to help Pema wash the dishes.

“He’s right, it is pretty gross,” Jinora said thoughtfully, before standing and leaning across the table to flip through another book. “And grandfather never mentioned why he had to eat them. Oh! I have a book on the flora of the Air Temples, I can go get it and maybe it’ll have the answer!”

She turned and started to walk away, but Korra’s reflexes were still sharp despite her fatigue. Her hand grabbed the back of Jinora’s robes, tugging her back down into her seat.

“Jinora, can’t we do this later?” Korra whined. Tenzin was still in the city, helping Lin make room for the members of her salvaged police force. With her father’s absence, Jinora took it upon herself to step up as Korra’s airbending instructor, if only for a few hours. “I already had practice and meditation today, and I have to help Bolin with his bending, and Asami has to teach me self-defense.”

The young girl’s eyebrows peaked together, brown eyes widening with worry. “But Korra, this is important too! It’s all apart of your Avatar duties, and sometimes, I remember more stuff about it than my dad, so - “

“I’m so  _tired_ ,” Korra mumbled, covering her face with her hands and applying pressure. “I appreciate the help, really, but not tonight. I’m stressed enough as it is.”

“But we don’t have much time! I know you train a lot but this is important too, you have to know this stuff or…or else…”

Korra lifted her hands from her face and looked down at Jinora. Her back was curved to fold over the table, one hand tucked into her lap and the other fingering the page of the book nearest her. Pema walked back into the room humming, filling the odd silence and taking the last of the dishes before wandering out. The whole time, Jinora never looked up from her book.

The book, Korra could see from the top of the page, was titled,  _Air_ _Nomad_ _Art_ _vol_ _. 3:_ _Statuary_ _and_ _Spirituality_. Jinora had all five volumes on the table, spread out among various books by her father, her grandfather, and all aspects of Air Nomad culture and bending. They didn’t come from Tenzin’s study, as these books had passages underlined, pages dog-eared, and filled with all those tabs to keep track of certain chapters. Every book belonged to Jinora, the third airbender to exist in over a hundred years.

“You’re ten, Jinora,” Korra stated quietly.

Her lips puckered into a frown, and she refused to look up. “Avatar Aang was twelve when he got his tattoos. My dad was fourteen when he wrote his first book on airbending. I -  _we_  have a lot to live up to.”

“But  _you_  don’t have to win a war.”

Jinora picked up her head. “But you do.”

The words should have hit Korra hard, knocking her over with stress and worry, but instead she focused on Jinora. The path of her life had already been shaped by one war, and Korra didn’t want that to happen again. A ten year old shouldn’t have to hold the fate of an entire race in her hands when she had two younger siblings to help shoulder the burden.

Korra reached across the table and started flipping the books shut, stacking them on top of each other. “This is my job, not yours. When I was ten, I was more concerned with teaching Naga how to roll over than how to run the world.”

Jinora was silent, the only sound in the room the soft shutting of pages and the light taps of stacking them together. Korra didn’t know if this was a good sign, but she continued her work with determination.

“Did you do it?”

“Hm?” she paused, looking back at the girl.

She sighed. “Did you teach Naga how to roll over?”

“Yeah.”

The young girl seemed to consider this. She slowly lifted her other hand to lift the book before her off the table, shutting it, and placing it on the stack Korra was making.

“Can you show me?”

“What?”

Jinora started reaching across the table to finish picking up the books. “Can you show me the tricks Naga can do?”

Korra sat back and nervously tapped her fingers against the books, looking down the hall where Bolin was probably with Asami and the other children, waiting for his bending lessons. But Jinora was right in front of her, brown eyes wide and yearning, and she sighed with defeat.

“Uh, yeah. I can show you a few tricks.”

“Good, because,” Jinora stood and took half of the stack in her arms. “If I get to take a break from my responsibilities, you should too.”

Korra opened her mouth to argue, but Jinora looked down at her with a frown.

“Are you going to help me put the books back, or not?” she asked.

In disbelief, Korra laughed, but found she didn’t have the heart to argue. She picked up the rest of the books and trailed after Jinora, the stress leaving her and clearing her mind as she walked.


	6. Ikki

She felt something small travel across the joint of her thumb. Trying not to break her calm pattern of breathing, she gently lifted one eyelid to peer down through her eyelashes at the ant that crawled across her skin. It was black, but through the blurry shield of her lashes it appeared dark purple, sticking out against her brown skin and the yellow sleeve that just ended where the insect was headed.

It was noon, and fire burned inside her, and really, this ant was the last straw.

She slowly unfurled her left hand from the fist she had it in during meditation, curling back her index finger and setting it just behind the ant to flick it into oblivion when -

“ _Stop_ _!_ ”

Korra froze and instantly opened her eyes all the way, just in time to clearly watch two, small, pale hands cup around the ant, and carry it off of her own skin to safety. She turned her head to look at the little girl beside her, cradling the ant in her palms and sending a glare far too stern for anyone her age to be wearing at the older girl.

“You’re supposed to be meditating, not killing bugs!” Ikki exclaimed, bringing her hands closer to her chest.

Korra curled her hands into fists again, this time to rub her knuckles forcefully through her hair and to her scalp. The start of a headache pounded away at the back of her skull, just as it always did when Ikki sat in during her afternoon meditation while her father was at work in the city.

“I wasn’t going to kill it, I was just going to flick it away!” Korra argued.

The younger girl pouted before standing, stomping off the wooden floor of the gazebo to step on the grass. She bent over gently and placed her cupped hands over a leaf on the bushes that decorated the outside pillars. Pulling her hands away, Ikki leaned in closer to the leaf and whispered to the ant, smiling, before looking back up at Korra. Her face instantly turned sour at the sight of the older girl, like she had just sucked on a lemon.

“Hurting things is wrong,” Ikki said, tipping her nose into the air and stalking back to the gazebo. She stood before Korra with her arms clasped behind her back in the perfect imitation of her father. “Airbenders don’t hurt things on purpose!”

“Fine, I’m sorry, alright?”

“No!” she shouted, leaning forward with her face scrunching together once more. “No, no, no! You hurt too many things!”

“What?” Korra shouted back, taking offense. “I only hurt bad people! That’s my job.”

“You also fight people all the time! Like probending-Daddy said we couldn’t go and I asked him why and he  _told_ _me_  what you do! You hurt people until you win! That’s mean!”

Tenzin had said as much before, but coming from a child-one that looked up to her, one that Korra cared about-it actually started to sink in. Being the Avatar couldn’t be solely about fighting. It was clear in the way Ikki’s nose bunched up with wrinkles and her eyebrows drew together that she was utterly disgusted with Korra.

She sunk back, hunching her shoulders and tugging at the sleeves at her wrists. She avoided eye contact. “Well, I mean…I’m supposed to fight, Ikki. It’s what waterbenders and firebenders and earthbenders do.”

The little girl explosively sighed, tossing her arms in the air and marching around in a circle before her. “But you’re an airbender too! You gotta be all four!  _Patience_ _,_ _Korra_!”

It was an exact recitation of her father, and coming from Tenzin, the words never hit. He was a grown man who, of course, had patience and had taught himself to be calm in any situation. But coming from an excitable child, one that bounced on the balls of her feet and seemingly lacked restraint, changed the meaning. If Ikki could do it, so could Korra.

“Ok,” Korra said calmly, breathing in a deep sigh. “Ok, I’ll try harder. I promise I won’t hurt anything unless absolutely necessary.”

Ikki stopped her marching, staring down at the older girl with her pout still holding strong. Their eyes met and they held each other’s gaze until finally, Ikki’s face relaxed into a bright smile.

“Good! Let’s go back to meditating!”


	7. Meelo

She was tired. The kind of tired that made everything hurt, but the pain seemed to focus somewhere behind her eyes, making everything look sharp and her pulse pounded against the thin skin of her eyelids. To top it all off, it was four in the morning, and she was awake just to fit in training time with the three elements that she had already mastered, seeing as the war in the city made her paranoid. She wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed, but she would hate herself for it once the sun rose. Lastly, Meelo was sitting on the ground, crying hysterically, and it just made tears prick at the corners of her eyes like a burn.

“You’re not supposed to be up,” she tried to reason with him. “And you know you’re not allowed outside alone!”

He wailed louder, a deep gasping sob wracking his small body. He forced his eyes to open slightly just to look up at her as fat tears trailed down his face.

“Y-y-you yelled at m-me!”

Korra pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes forcefully, a blast of color popping behind her closed eyelids before releasing them and blinking back the dark training platform surrounding her.

“I was mad, Meelo!” she said.

“You’re mean!”

Korra sighed and hunched forward, looking up at the housing quarters. All the windows were still dark like shining black ice, indicating that despite Meelo’s wailing, no one else but her was awake to hear it. Or see her fail utterly at calming down a child. With no audience to impress, she let her legs give out underneath her weight and the weight of the world that she carried on her shoulders, sinking to her knees and plopping down on the ground before the crying toddler.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” she said flatly, and his crying slowed as he listened. “I’m just really tired and that makes me mean.”

The cries had stopped, but the last tears still fell down already traveled wet paths, while he rubbed his entire hand under his runny nose. Korra frowned at this, as he seemed intent on covering every inch of his fingers and palm with snot. His grey eyes were huge, so bright and open, but the same shade as his father’s. She wondered vaguely if Meelo would ever grow up to be a thing like him.

“If you’re cranky, take a nap,” he ordered seriously. He then twisted his wet hand into his robes to wipe it clean.

Korra smiled and chuckled quietly. “It’s not as easy as that. Things haven’t been very easy for me lately.”

His face scrunched up, as if all of his features suddenly decided to move towards his small, button nose. It just made his head seem far too large for his face, but even so, he finally seemed to resemble Tenzin in personality.

“Naps are easy! How do you mess up a nap? Do you know what’s hard?”

Korra’s smile pulled wider. “No, what?”

“Going to work. Daddy says it’s hard to go to work in the morning. But work’s supposed to be hard. Do you go to work?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I go to work with your dad every morning.”

His eyes suddenly widened, face dropping into stunned silence. Of course, with Meelo, silence never lasted long, so his face scrunched up once more.

“If naps are hard for you, work must be  _impossible_ ,” he exclaimed. He suddenly stood up and bounced up and down. “I’m going to teach you how to nap, Korra. Napbending!”

“Napbending?” she repeated amused, and she stood. He held out his hand, the clean one  _thank_ _the_ _Spirits_ , and she took it.

He dragged her back up to the house. “You can napbend anywhere! Your bed, the floor, the table, the-“

She was instructed to napbend on the couch. He had even grabbed a pillow from his room, fluffed it, and shoved it under her head. She settled in among the cushions but almost instantly was reprimanded for it.

“What? What am I doing wrong?” she mumbled.

“I need room!” he whisper-shouted back.

With a heavy sigh, she shifted, but Meelo jumped onto the couch and managed to fit most of his body on her chest. It pushed the air out of her lungs and she gasped loudly to call it back, but Meelo slapped a tiny hand to the side of her face twice, which for him was probably meant to be a gentle caress.

“Shhhh! Nap time!”

She rolled her eyes but conceded to shut them, not expecting sleep to come. She would wait for him to fall asleep, carry him back to his room, and return to her early morning practice sessions because for the past week, nothing came easy, not even sleep.

Instead she was woken up at seven, eyes opening to find an amused Tenzin standing over them, calling them both to breakfast.


	8. Lin

“Lin, it’s too dangerous.”

The ex-Chief of police slapped the blueprints in her hand down on the table so hard, that the resulting sound rebounded off the walls and the table shook. Korra could feel the vibrations travel all the way to her chair, which she sunk in a bit under Lin’s gaze, even if it was directed at the unmoved Tenzin.

“No, what’s dangerous, Tenzin, is  _Tarrlok_ ,” Lin spat. “This mission is going to happen with or without your backing. I need my men by my side if I’m going to protect  _my_  city.”

“Will you at least consider other options?”

“ _No_.” Her eyes, if possible, narrowed even further. “It is not your place to dictate my actions as head of my metalbending forces. I’m going in alone, I’ve gone over the blueprints of the warehouse - I can and will do this.”

His stony face melted into defeat with his heavy sigh, exhaling with enough force to blow across the table and move Korra’s hair.

Without another word, Lin let go of the blueprints and turned on her heel, marching out of the room.

Korra watched her leave in silence, before turning to see Tenzin fall into the chair at his end of the table. All was quiet as he had his eyes shut, brow knit together as he massaged his temples. A few sounds of cracking earth and hollow taps of metal hitting metal resounded in the distance, all the way down the hall of the metalbending academy where Lin now spent her days since giving up her job. The woman was deep in her work, going over plans for Tarrlok, the Equalists, Amon, and recovering her officers, but by the way Tenzin reacted to her obsessions, it seemed normal.

As far as Korra was concerned, it wasn’t normal, and it partially got on her nerves. Lin was an impressive person, no doubt, but it seemed as if she was trying to take over Korra’s job. When that didn’t sit well with her, Korra stood and followed the path she had seen Lin take in order to find her.

It didn’t take long to spot her in one of the training areas, an open patch of land surrounded by open walkways on all four sides. This one was filled with flat, dry, hard earth. Lin had already erected a chair from the ground and sat in the shade at the far side, eyes shut and reclining into the seat.

“Korra,” she said the second the young girl’s foot touched the ground, eyes still shut, but jerking her head in greeting.

“Lin.”

She breathed in sharply through her nose when Korra raised a small platform next to her stone chair, which Korra sat on. “Do you  _need_  anything, or did Tenzin put you up to this?”

Korra rolled her eyes. “I was just wondering…,” she trailed off, not quite knowing the words to express her annoyance while still being respectful.

“Well, spit it out.”

Korra decided to let her annoyance speak for her.

“Why do you always do my job?”

Lin’s eyes opened and she sat up to look down at Korra, her harsh face actually looking confused for once. “Excuse me?”

“ _You_  should just worry about your police officers,” Korra said defensively. “ _I_  should worry about Amon.”

“If you think I’m leaving my city in the hands of a seventeen year old, then you - “

” -  _And_  why do you always call it  _my_ _city_ ,” Korra shouted above her voice to be heard. Lin’s mouth was left hanging open as Korra spoke. “It’s not  _yours_ , it doesn’t belong to anybody!”

Her words hung in the air for a long moment before Lin closed her parted lips and the tension left her face. Korra had never seen her so surprised, so open, and felt embarrassment eek into her skin. Lin’s cool green eyes left Korra’s and gazed out at the rocky expanse before them until her expression shifted to regain her usual sharp demeanor.

“It belongs to Aang,” she stated flatly.

“What?”

Lin frowned. “Republic City belongs to Aang. It was his vision and goal, and when he died, he left it for me to protect. I’m keeping up a promise you didn’t know you made.”

Korra had never heard Lin speak of Avatar Aang, despite Tenzin’s encouraging words that the pair of them were close. It was worse than hearing  _him_  speak of the man; Tenzin resorted to titles and distanced himself by forgoing use of the word  _father_. Lin’s voice held sadness and longing that was only just detectable, as if she were trying to hide it but failed. The fact that Lin made it sound as if Korra and Aang were one and the same hit the young Avatar like a punch to the chest, robbing her of air and making her eyes sting.

She opened her mouth to try and encourage some words forward in response, but none came. After a moment, Lin’s gaze smoothly traveled over the earth and back to Korra’s face. She regarded it for a moment before speaking.

“I promised you a long time ago that the city was yours when you came back. I don’t think Aang expected you to be quite so… _eager_ , so I’ll hold onto it for a little while longer. Not until you’ve passed the Beifong school of Avatar training, that is.”

The words managed to make sense to Korra for a long moment after they were spoken.

“Wait, really?”

Lin suddenly stood and with a small tap of her heel, the chair she had made sunk back into the earth as if it never existed. She calmly walked to the center of the training area, locking her knees and spine, rooting herself to the earth and smiling sharply. “You passed once before. Don’t tell me you’re too much of a pansy this lifetime around that you can’t handle it again?”

Korra laughed and stood, and she watched Lin’s face melt with just a touch of affection before it snapped back to be battle ready. When Korra was thrown to the ground about ten seconds into their fight, she couldn’t help but laugh again, this time louder even though the pain. It felt right to be knocked down by Lin for a reason she didn’t quite understand. Losing usually sent Korra into a fit of anger, but this, despite the hard earth jabbing at her sides, felt right.

As it had before.


	9. Bolin

It had been a long time after their ill-fated, half-hearted attempt at dating, an event that felt ages ago. She knew now in the way Bolin would just  _be_  with her, that things had settled between them. A lot had happened, a lot of fights had been fought, and many more bowls of noodles had been consumed between the two of them, and it had finally been enough.

They laid on their backs on a dock at the harbor, soaking up the sun while they idly waited for it to set. Based on police information, there would be a riot tonight, and Korra was meant to be the head of it. An unspoken agreement, but it was a given that she had to be there. When she told her friends, they didn’t hesitate when they said that they would go. Bolin, specifically, as always, shouted above the rest to agree first. Not as a contest, but because he was the most sincere.

She sighed heavily, focusing the air to raise her stomach and not her chest, as it was an Airbending practice. It did slow her breathing and calm her, but she knew with the sun beating above her relentlessly, that the elements inside her warred against each other. Fire wanted to seep from her fingertips, while air wanted to quell her energy. Her musings on airbending recalled the words of Avatar Aang, reminding her that she had something to say to her friend resting at her side.

“Hey, Bo?” she called.

“Yeah?” he muttered back, eyes shut against the sun.

“You know the story of how Avatar Aang and Toph Beifong met, right?”

“Nope.”

She grinned and tilted her head to the side to find him smiling.

“Good,” she replied, bringing her head back and shutting her eyes. “Because either way, hardly anybody knows the real story.”

“This sounds like a good one,” he laughed.

“It’s one of my favorites.”

She told him the whole story, having to edge deeper and deeper into minor details because he was curious about  _everything_  ( _a_ _swamp_ _?_ _where_ _?_ _it_ _’_ _s_ _just_ one  _tree_ _?_ _you_ _can_ _bend_ _plants_ _?_ ), until finally getting to her point. The ghostly apparition of Toph Beifong, twelve years old and giggling with a flying boar, making her existence known to the Avatar.

“Woah, that really happened?” he asked, sitting up and looking back at her face.

His body, thick and solid with muscle, blocked the sun from her eyes. Opening them, she grinned and nodded. “Yeah. Really happened.”

“That’s so cool,” he gushed, then paused. “Has anything ever happened like that to you?”

She sighed and sat up, bending her knees to peak so she could drape her arms across them. The waters of Yue Bay were sparkling blinding white from the sun high overhead, and it almost reminded her of the South Pole.  _Almost_ , if it weren’t for the boy at her side, who made sure she was never lonely and wanting like she had been back home. He was the friend she always wanted and now finally had.

“Not  _exactly_ , but,” she paused and licked her lips, knowing her words had to be careful. “I think sometimes I’m just drawn to people. Like I just see them, and something clicks. We were meant to meet, meant to be friends, and just…everything feels right. It’s comfortable.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded and looked at him, smiling uneasily, because she didn’t have the words or the faith yet to feel any confidence in explaining herself. Seeing this, Bolin’s face stretched into a wide, kind grin, and he leaned back on his hands -  _take_ _your_ _time_ _._ _We_ _’_ _ve_ _got_ _all_ _day_.

“I think we were meant to be friends, Bolin,” she said with confidence and warmth. His smile pulled wider, white teeth peeking out between his lips. “We had a weird start, but…you’re my best friend.”

A deep, rolling laugh rippled up through his chest, and it disturbed a few lazy tigerseals resting on the rocks that revealed themselves at low tide. “Woah, really? Did you have any crazy hallucinations of me back on the frozen tundra?”

“They aren’t hallucinations, they’re  _visions_! From the Spirit World!” She laughed back.

“Was I sitting on a snow bank with a flying Pabu?”

She socked in him the arm and he flinched, so she punched him again. Rubbing his arm and smile unwavering, he snorted. “Well, I mean, I had a vision the day we met.”

“What? Really?”

He nodded. “Oh, yeah. In the hallway to the arena - I saw this totally awesome girl dressed in weird Water Tribe clothes hanging out with a polar bear dog. I blinked and it went away.” He glanced at Korra and found her mouth had dropped open in shock, bright eyes wide and eager to hear more. He smirked. “Yeah, but I guess it didn’t really mean anything, because I ended up meeting you instead.”

“Jerk!” Korra shouted in good humor, instantly wrapping her arm around his neck and pulling him into a headlock, digging her knuckles into his hair.

“Hey, hey, I was only kidding! You’re totally awesome and you’re my best friend, happy now?” he shouted through his laughter, trying to wiggle out from her grasp.

Feeling satisfied with her punishment, she loosened her grip and sat back on the dock, keeping her arm draped around his shoulders. With a content sigh, he reached his arm up to do the same to her, staring out at the waters of Yue Bay together.

“Weird Avatar junk aside, Korra,” he said. “You’re my best friend too.”

“Forever?”

“Forever,” he chuckled.


	10. Asami

“Bad day?”

Asami sighed heavily, shoulders sagging like a heavy weight had been placed upon them, and she nodded. Korra mimicked her, pressing all of her weight against the wall and into her left foot.

“Me too.”

The older girl covered her face with her hands, rubbing slightly at her skin and stretching her palms across her cheeks and breathing in heavily. She felt her eyeshadow smudge with the drag of her finger pads, lipstick pressing on her palms, but she didn’t care.

“I am  _not_  sleeping tonight,” Asami groaned, and removed her hands to press her fingertips to her temples, massaging them deeply.

Korra let out a tired groan as well, digging her shoulder blades into the wall just to feel the cuts and bruises against her back sharper. The dull pain that lingered against her skin when untouched annoyed her; at least the harsher pain was momentary.

“Sleepover?” Korra suggested.

“ _Please_ ,” Asami said with a half-laugh. She stood from her seat on the couch, stretching her arms before her and cracking her knuckles loudly. “Are those dumplings you hid in the icebox still there?”

Korra nodded and pushed off from the wall, cracking her back and neck. “Yup. You go set up the blankets, I’ll get the snacks.”

“Deal.”

The house was silent. Korra had just returned from a late night meeting with ex-Chief Lin Beifong, and what remained of her police force. Tenzin had quickly gone to bed, but Korra wandered through the house until she found Asami on the couch, wide awake at one in the morning, absentmindedly thumbing through some history books. The children were asleep, the brothers were asleep, and the adults were asleep, but Asami and Korra never slept as soundly as they did.

Nightmares plagued them. They both shared Korra’s room, after tugging a second bed into the room on the first night of her friends’ stay. After they woke to Asami’s articulate arguments with her father that she mumbled and shouted in her sleep, and to Korra’s violent thrashing and mangled yells as she fought in her dreams, they both got to know each other quickly. It was a friendship based on mutual fears of men and women with masked faces and horrible power in their hands, and through late night talks in the dark, they found that they had a lot in common. More than either of them would have ever expected.

They both grew up lonely. Asami’s mother gone, and Korra sent away from her parents left them isolated with no chance for friendships. They were small girls living in places too large and too mysterious and too  _empty_  to feel like home; even if they sometimes found themselves missing it. Asami played the part of girl well, but she missed out on just as many milestones as Korra had: no sleepovers, no birthday parties, no one to relate to. They were both stumbling through their lives as teenaged girls and hoped that they were getting it right, until they met each other, of course. Then they both reveled in each other’s strangeness and clung to each other because  _finally_ , someone understood.

Korra returned to her room with her arms laden with food, mostly containing meat she had purchased in the city that had to be hidden on the Island. She had also pilfered two bottles of fermented tea, her fingers wrapped around the necks and metal handles from the various take-out boxes chilling her skin. Asami had tossed every blanket, sheet, and pillow to the floor to make a kind of nest, which centered on a black lacquered box full of her beauty supplies and the radio, which she left on a staticky jazz station.

They distributed the snacks, settled in against the pillows, and though bags had collected under their eyes and their bones ached, they were calm. Korra stuffed a cold dumpling into her mouth whole, and Asami did the same before reaching for her box. Rifling through it, she pulled out a bottle of nail polish, silently motioning to Korra to extend her leg. Complying, she placed her foot in front of Asami, and after shaking the bottle, Asami started painting Korra’s toenails.

“So,” Korra said, swallowing the dumpling. “How was your day?


	11. Tahno

Korra poured the dark tea from the kettle into the small clay cup in Tahno’s hand. He lifted it gently towards her before tapping it against the table, muttered, “To my friend,” and lifted it to his lips. Her own lips quirked into a smile as she poured her own cup, amused that he knew the traditional Water Tribe toast that was always performed before tea.

“What?” he said.

She shook her head and set the kettle down on its iron stand, taking her tea into her hands and mimicking the same motions he did before. “Nothing. I just didn’t know if you knew the toast or not.”

He huffed out a laugh as she sipped her tea, the steam rising off the surface and warming the tip of her nose and upper lip.

“I am Water Tribe, aren’t I?”

She shrugged and set the cup down, rolling it between her fingers. “I guess. I don’t know, the city’s so modern that I usually just assume…”

“That people forget?” he finished for her, and she nodded. “Not the Water Tribe. We’re the only nation to hold it together.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded, suddenly snapping into his old confidence, speaking with authority. “Oh, yeah. You see all kinds of old rituals in the city, especially by the docks. We’re not known as savages for nothing.”

Her face turned sour and she rolled her eyes, making Tahno breathily laugh again before sipping his tea.

“You don’t mind it?” she asked. “Being called a savage?”

He shook his head instantly. “No. Only idiots hold onto that line of thinking, and I’m not as eloquent as Councilman Sokka was to dissuade them. We know better, anyway.”

 _We_. The connection between the two of them slowly shifted in Korra’s mind, because they could no longer be enemies, not with a far bigger enemy uniting them.  _We_ , though, that word implied that their relationship, whatever it may be, could be a bit more pure. Unity through a culture that she had thought she left behind. And the way Tahno spoke of it, with slight reverence and understanding, made her believe that not everything had to be sacrificed to the city.

“There’s a spare room in the Acolyte’s quarters,” she said, instantly catching his attention. “It’s yours if you want it.”

His face fell, expression completely blank, and his body went rigid as if encased in ice. He still moved and behaved like water; it made Korra have hope for him. Slowly, he melted, tilting his shoulders fluidly and wide mouth pulling into a smile, eyes narrowing.

“Air Nomads never turn away a guest?” he teased.

She snorted and shook her head. “No. The Tribe sticks together.”

She said the same thing to the incredulous, shocked faces of her friends and family when they stumbled into the dining room for breakfast, hair matted and bleary-eyed. At their various reactions (Mako glaring and Bolin worried and Asami laughing and Tenzin giving a deep, defeated sigh), Tahno returned to his old self, tipping his fingers to them in greeting and giving them all a cocky half-smile.


	12. Mako

“I’ve had so many husbands and wives and children,” she said with an awed sigh.

Bolin and Asami’s soft laughter lifted up from their mouths and towards the dark night sky, where only the brightest stars could be seen against the city’s light pollution. Korra laid on the ground next to him at his right, all four of them with resting in the center of the airbending training platform, white boxes of takeout and discarded chopsticks rustling around them with the slight wind. What she had said had been a light joke, but Mako’s throat tightened and suddenly, Korra wasn’t by his side anymore. Something new and bright and far bigger than he had ever bothered to comprehend was lying by his side.

That was the first time.

The second time came less abruptly. She fell asleep during lunch, when she was supposed to be watching the children. He managed to catch her before she fell to the ground, but the bowl of food she had in her hands spilled all down her front, clanging to the floor. He managed to shake her awake, worried, but she suddenly snapped to attention.

“What? What happened?”

“You-I think you just fell asleep.”

“Standing up?”

Her tone suggested amusement, and Mako felt the need to tighten his grip on her shoulders rather than let her go.

“You should probably get to bed.”

“No, I’m - ” she paused to yawn, finishing it by smacking her lips and tugging at the corner of her eye. “I’m fine. I promised Tenzin.”

He looked up over the top of her head and told Bolin and Asami to take up Korra’s promise, ignoring her protests and ushering her down the hall to her room. She pulled off her dirty airbending robes, wearing her usual shirt and long, white under shorts underneath, and she fell back on her bed with a sigh.

Rather than shut her eyes, she kept them open, and Mako sat down on the edge of her bed, squinting his own eyes to scrutinize her. She ignored him, and allowed her fingers to splay out on the blankets beneath her, running her palms slowly over the cool fabric in slow, fluid movements. As if he weren’t even there.

“Why are you so tired?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I had a busy day today. And yesterday. And the day before that. I’ve been having a lot of busy days.”

“You went to bed at seven,” he said. “I know you wake up early, but…”

She lifted her head and stared at him, slightly confused. “You know I share my room with Asami, right?”

“Yeah?”

Her eyebrows knitted deeper, scrunching the skin between them to pucker with one thick, solid line. “She yells in her sleep. And I break things.”

It was his turn to be confused. She sighed at his oblivious expression, and propped herself up on her elbows.

“Nightmares,” was all she gave him, before plopping back down against the blankets again.

“ _Oh_.”

“Yeah.”

He knew there was more for her to explain. He didn’t have much reason for knowing other than some nagging voice at the back of his head, shouting at him to stay put. That at this moment, she had a lot to say, even if she was tired; he wasn’t about to let go. He had made many mistakes and finally, he felt that he could do something right by her.

“Why else are you tired?” he ventured to ask, pausing to lick his dry, chapped lips. “You look…really run down.”

She sighed heavily, drawing the air in through her stomach, because she had explained that that was how airbenders breathed.

She opened her mouth and out poured every duty she had to fulfill each day, but some duties bled into each other and didn’t allow for rest or sleep. She explained that she had to learn chi-blocking with Asami, that she had to teach the brothers proper bending, that she had to protect everybody on the Island even if they didn’t want her to.

“You don’t have to,” he said.

She rolled her eyes, and suddenly, she was much older than him. He never felt young. “No, Mako, I  _do_  have to.”

“You don’t have to protect me, then,” he bargained.

She lifted her head again to stare at him, blue gaze unwavering under his flickering amber, traveling over her face that suddenly, he knew would be carved into statues and maybe printed on money. That right now, before she matured any further, her face was only his to look at and be in awe of. It would one day be timeless and everyone would know it, and that day was fast approaching.

“That’s not what you’re supposed to say,” she said, and her lips tugged into a sad smile. “But you’re getting closer to what I want to hear.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, watching her shift, easing her head down on the pillows and relaxing.

She shut her eyes, and her smile wasn’t as sad with their exclusion. “You’ll figure it out.”

It was absurd, so he allowed a small, airy chuckle to escape his lips.

“When did you get so much older than me?” he asked.

Her smile favored to the left, and he knew then that it was genuine.

“I’m thousands of years old, Mako. You know that.”

Well, now he did.

The third time, before he finally found his place in her life, was when Asami had fallen asleep accidentally in the boys’ bedroom, and nobody had the heart to wake her. She had her back pressed up against Bolin’s, Pabu nesting in her hair that trailed over Bolin’s neck. Mako had attempted to fall asleep on his own bed on the floor, facing her and holding hands, but sleep never came. Something beyond Asami’s inclusion in his space was wrong. Something was missing.

Her lips parted and slipping from them were a string of curses and well formulated arguments with her father, eyebrows tipping together and shoulders shaking with each desperate breath. Bolin shifted, raising his head sleepily and turning to watch the girl. With a loud sigh, he rolled over, shooed Pabu out of the way, and wrapped an arm around Asami’s shoulders, tucking his chin atop her black, knotted curls.

“Wake up, Asami,” he whispered, sleep coating his words. “It’s just a dream.”

Before her eyes could fly open, Mako stood and left the room, not bothering with a coat or boots to ward off the outside chill. He found that Asami needed a friend much more than she needed a boyfriend, and Bolin, for all his naivete, was far better at comforting than he ever would be. His bare feet, thick and calloused, encouraged small rocks and dirt to embed themselves in his skin, tracking it into the family’s house as he walked down the hall to Korra’s room.

He knocked on the door and entered, finding her sitting up in bed, sheets twisted violently around her legs and staring at the empty bed across from her. Her wide, frightened eyes flicked up to meet his before returning to Asami’s bed.

“Good timing,” she muttered. “I just had one where they took all three of you.”

He shut the door halfway, his body moving of its own accord, his mind blank save for the constant feeling of  _need_  filling his head. He sat down on the corner of her bed and reached out a hand to toy with the odd corner of her sheet by her ankle, foot popping out against the tightly bound fabric. She had scrapes on the knuckles of her toes from the earthbending lessons she had been giving Bolin, and from the ones she had been receiving from Lin.

“How’s Asami?” she asked, hunching forward, legs splaying out as far as they could across the mattress.

He shrugged. “Bolin’s with her. She needs - “

”- A friend? Yeah. We all do.”

He looked up at her, but she was busy fiddling with the ties she left in her hair. He noticed her other foot, tucked into the sheets, was lumpy and large because it was still clad in her boot. Glancing at the floor, he saw her other boot had been tossed there with her thrashing.

“I haven’t been a very good friend,” he said slowly, at the exact moment when the thought crossed his mind.

She shook her head. “All three of you have been wonderful.”

“Not me. I mean, it’s taken me awhile to get here, right?”

She lifted her head and softly smiled at him. “Sure, you’ve taken your time. But it’s the fact that you’re still here that counts.”

Slowly, he reached across the bed and started untangling the sheets from her legs. She bent her knees repeatedly, shuffling the fabric free, giving him more to work with. As they came free, he tugged off her boot and tossed it to the floor.

“You should let down your hair,” he said, wrapping the sheet around his hands in a messy bundle.

With a sigh, she reached behind her head and tugged the largest tie free, quickly following it up with the two in the front. The cylinders tapped together with small, hollow sounds like the wind chimes set up all around the Island, and he stood up and spread out the sheet before her, letting the fabric billow and slowly descend over her legs. She placed the ties on the table beside her bed, and smoothed the free sheet over her torso with flat palms.

“Do you always sleep like that?” he asked. “Completely dressed?”

She shrugged. “I’ve got to be ready for anything.”

He moved to her side of the bed, placing a hand on her shoulder and gently pushing to guide her to rest. She fell against the pillows with no protest or ceremony, completely complying with him, sinking down with a sigh as her skin slipped out beneath his hand.

Not wanting to sever the connect like that, her always twisting away because he was too stupid to allow her to go without him, he bent down beside her and placed his hand over hers. She needed him just as much as he needed her.

“Let me take care of you,” he said, just a touch pleading.

She tipped her head to the side and smiled. “Now we’re even.”

“No, I’ve still got a lot to repay you for.”

She shut her eyes and shook her head, smile pulling wider as if endlessly amused.

“No, Mako. I’m going to protect you and take care of you for as long as I know you, and you’re going to do the same. We’re going to be even.”

Her hand slowly turned until her palm pressed against his, the skin warm but her fingers cool, covered in thick, rough skin and fingernails just dusting the pads of his fingers. He finally got it.

“We’re balanced,” he muttered.

Her hand tightened around his, and he could feel his pulse against her thumb, so he did the same to feel her blood slipping through her veins and vibrating into his hand. It would take time for them to truly meet, but he took comfort in the fact that he finally found the place he needed to be for the rest of his life. He could wait. Right then, being there was enough.


End file.
